Fear

I am afraid of learning new things.

Okay, I’m over forty, older than some kings.

A friend said when you get to forty you don’t want to learn anything new.

Has that happened to you?

Einstein made his great discovery before the age of twenty-five.

For the rest of his life he did more or less nothing except say he is alive.

And so also with some other famous men.

When my uncle and aunt were middle aged he said they are two setting suns.

Children are more or less learning machines then they forget everything they ever knew.

I am an old child not knowing what to do.

That friend of mine is eighty-two.

What’s more he still cuts his grass.

I do not, alas.

If you don’t move with the times you’re dead.

I said.

A nephew of mine said when you stop learning its over.

His dog is not called Rover.

Einstein, relatively speaking, was right.

Though not absolutely, I could go on all night.

Scientists keep disproving the last one’s work.

What about me? I shirk.

Its too much like work.

Why doesn’t a man on a white horse come riding by and solve my problems in the wink of an eye?

I suppose I’ll have to do it before I die.

I should mention Goya said he was still learning at the age of ninety-five.

Though not that age I am still alive.

All my faculties are alive and kicking.

When will I stop tricking?

I was not put on Earth to disappoint.

Come priest, anoint.

When I die will I make a wonderful corpse?

People may say, he died waiting for a horse.

Come, pale rider, is the pale rider me?

As Shakespeare said, to be or not to be.

Instead of doing things I write poetry.

That’s me.

I have an awful lot to say.

Some other time, I’ll be on my way.

My mother said if you won’t go to school you’ll have to get a job.

Big nob?

She also asked do I take anything seriously.

Not me.

A cup of tea.

Seriousness is morbidity, morbidity is death.

I’m not there yet.

I lament Tibet.

How about girls with slashes in their jeans at the knees?

Designer poverty, puhleese.

In times like these.

I am God’s misbegotten son.

Not the only one.

Have fun.

Should I say more about why I am so slow?

A snail gets there, you know.

Shell rhymes with Hell.

Self inflicted wounds are hardest to cure.

Endure.

Roses grow in manure.

Do I mean a word I say?

Oh everything.

Meaning is king.

I mean to say I go.

Words no one wants to hear, I told you so.

Tich Ennis

10th June, 2017

 

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